Breaking Point
by Cryn
Summary: What if Harry had imagined Voldemort? What if it was all in his head? Why is Malfoy suddenly caring? Why is Harry hearing voices? Looking for opinions on whether I should continue or not. HPxDM Read the note at the beginning!


Breaking Point

By: Cryn

Disclaimer: None of the Characters are mine.

NOTE: This fic deals with heavy themes such as self-mutilation, abuse as well as torture. Please be respectful and don't flame me for what I write.

Pre-Order of the Phoenix.

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He was cold, sweating with fever. Harry's stomach churned and he opened his blurred eyes.

Dumbledore and Madam Pomfrey talked in hushed whispers on the far side of the room.

"Who found him?" The Headmaster asked the nurse solemnly.

"Draco Malfoy." The witch replied sadly looking to the shaken blonde on the bed down the way.

Harry spun back time in his head as he lay in the ward. Retracing how he had ended up in the bed of the Hospital Wing with such a fever and the chills.

Harry's thoughts took him back to when he was a child and how his 'family' had treated him. His Uncle Vernon hitting him across the head with a broom, yelling at him for spilling a potted plant. Harry instantly blew up the broom with a thought and showered his uncle and aunt with splinters. More thoughts, this time of Aunt Petunia whipping a vase straight at Harry, who ducked just before it had caused a crater in his face. Broken from the attacks, Harry retreated to his staircase in hopes of a relief from the torment. Dudley refused to grant his wish and pounded up and down the steps causing dust to fall, covering Harry from head to foot.

That's when he started hearing it and seeing it in his dreams. A sullen, snake like man with eyes of blazing fire watched Harry from his mind. He comforted Harry, telling him that as soon as he could, Harry would be able to torture and torment the relatives he stayed with, just as they had done to him. To do that, he had to accept the letter and go to some school somewhere far away.

_You will have power Harry Potter; you will have the power of a god._

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Harry fought hard to get into Hogwarts and fought harder to get good grades. After seven years he would be able to finally destroy the 'family' that hated him so much.

Something happened that the voice had not expected though; Harry Potter made friends and became happy at this new school. Harry ignored the voices in his head and started to slack, losing track of his goal. Joining Quidditch kept his mind off of the demon haunting his mind. Harry stopped listening to the voice and started to enjoy his life again.

The hatred inside lay dormant until the summer months when Harry again returned home. His uncle refused to feed him after being forced to give Harry the second bedroom, so he lay awake and stole the food he needed, hoarding it away in his closet to save it for when he needed it. After being caught stealing from the kitchen, Vernon had beaten him to nearly an inch of his life before leaving him bloodied on his wooden floor. 'Let that be a lesson to ya, ya thief.' He has snarled and left the bedroom to wash his blood soaked hands.

When Harry returned to school again, he did not tell anyone of the scars or the bruises that accompanied him. School had started to get to him, though. Eating away with the stress of class and fighting with Malfoy, a particularly handsome Slytherin Harry had been all but in love with. Draco Malfoy was rude and mean to Harry at every chance he got. Harry grew angry with him, but only in the public's eye, inside, he cared about the boy who could do nothing but hate. Harry enjoyed his second year in Draco's shadow.

It was Harry's third year when suddenly the voices he heard took influence on him again. The visions at night woke him in terror, screaming for his life to be spared. Ron Weasley, one of Harry's best friends never asked, he only assumed it was from a rough childhood without parents. Harry never told anyone that he was screaming at the voices in his head. He never spoke of what happened in the Dursley home either...

By fourth year, the voice had a name, Voldemort. Harry told vivid tales of how he had seen the creature that haunted him and how the creature was real, reborn into the ashes by using Harry's blood. The few friends he had were scared. Hermione tried to explain that there was no such person as Voldemort and that no one was trying to kill Harry. Ron was soft spoken, but agreed with his fuzzy haired friend. Harry scoffed at them and grew upset that no one seemed to believe what he told... Was Hermione right? Was Harry just dreaming all these things?

Harry was distraught that no one believed him. In the silence, the voice cackled behind his eyes, watching his friends turn away from him, Harry was afraid he might be losing his mind.

Another summer brought more pain for the teen as his uncle and cousin became more violent, not bothering to keep their anger in check. Dudley used Harry as a punching bag; Harry didn't care either way and stood still while his cousin tormented him again and again. His uncle Vernon was a lot stronger and Harry fled when he saw the murderous tint in the large man's eye. Once and a while Vernon would catch him, shoving him into his room. Harry had blocked those moments from memory, sealing them away into his growing itch to destroy, mutilate, and kill the man he called an uncle. His uncle heard Harry speaking to himself about what he would do if ever given the chance to hurt Vernon. Vernon tied Harry to the bed securely never letting him leave the room he lived, ate, defecated and slept in. His uncle had also bought a whip, making it seem like Harry was an animal that needed to be tamed.

The next year would be his sixth in the school of witchcraft and wizardry. Hermione and Ron had hooked up and were attached at the hip, leaving Harry alone in the halls with the voices inside his aching head. It was this year that Harry became afraid of the incessant nagging of the voice. He had tried to kill it, slicing himself open hoping to bleed to death, leaving his body behind, but he had only managed to pick up a new habit that was easily hidden under his long robes. Every time the voice spoke up again, Harry would pull away from the crowds of the large school and retreat to the Room of Requirement to find a large array of pointy objects suiting his needs. No one would ask where he went because no one cared about him anymore. Hermione had put ample space between Harry and the two lovebirds, afraid Harry might suddenly burst out and kill them all.

Then something happened that neither Harry, nor the voice expected. Malfoy had caught Harry in the Room of Requirement. He watched in silence as Harry screamed for whatever was haunting his mind to go away as Harry sliced into his arm again and again. Crying softly, Harry looked up and spotted Malfoy. He stood shocked and felt the blood dripping from his fingertips from his fresh wounds. Tears streaked Harry's pale face as Malfoy just looked back at him and his hand holding the knife.

"What are you doing here?" He asked Malfoy harshly.

Malfoy had turned on his heels and run from the sight of the bloodied Harry standing before him.

His seventh year in the school had gone quite the same, scars becoming more and more frequent. Malfoy appeared around every corner, watching Harry closely, no longer throwing rude comments at him. Harry never used the Room of Requirement again in fear of being spotted again; he had found a better place, far more secretive that no one really ever goes. Ron had stared in horror when he caught Harry sleeping without a shirt on a particularly hot night. Harry shrugged it off, why would Ron care about him anymore anyway?

Rumors passed through the school like wildfire; "Harry Potter has cuts lining his arms and scars across his chest and back." No one knew why the scars were on his chest or back, no one but Harry that is. Glares were sent his way, curious eyes wandered up and down his body, wondering just what had come over The-Boy-Who-Lived. Malfoy flashed pity at Harry, but Harry never even glanced in his direction.

The voice in his head grew stronger, hissing words past the numb pain Harry used to drown him out.

_Get used to it, I'm the only one that cares for you Potter and that's only because without you, I would have no body to act through._

The voice was no longer comforting, but insulting. It scolded Harry for letting his secrets be known to the world in a matter of minutes. Harry hated the voice and wanted it to die... he wanted to die.

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Author's Notes:

(1) I will only continue this if I get reviews for it. This is not the end, but I need feedback before I put out another chapter.

(2) Yes, Draco has more of a role in later chapters

(3) Please Read and Review.


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